


how long would you wait for me?

by nosecoffee



Category: Hadestown - Mitchell, Hellenistic Religion & Lore
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Fluff, Love, Orpheus is Immortal AU, Post canon, Promises, Propositions, Romance, sequel to 'down on its knees'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-25 21:49:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18583249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nosecoffee/pseuds/nosecoffee
Summary: (and how long i've been away)*No one knows this is their station. Mortal trains come and go from here, but no one knows the old steam train that chugs into town every six months belongs to a god. No one comes to wave her goodbye, and no one comes to welcome her either, anymore. There used to be celebrations and banquets and dancing. Hades would watch them all from his seat inside the train.Now, the wind is chill, and his wife is bundled up in her coat, with no one to greet her. "I always forget how unused to you the mortals are." She says when he's near, and smiles."I've no idea what you mean." He replies, plunking the suitcases down, either side of her.





	how long would you wait for me?

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "As It Was" by Hozier
> 
> The idea of this has been stuck in my head for ages, so naturally I had to write it.

People seem to think that death is a weary old man. They seem to think that he comes to their bedside in the night, waiting for their trembling hands to meet his same frail one and lead them down to rest. They seem to forget that Hades has nothing to do with collecting souls. Hades is only a judge to their lives, he'll read an overview, big points on the good and bad, little footnotes of thoughtless kindness and cruelty. He designates them a place to go, a torture or a pleasure or just something else. Hades does not go to the surface of the earth.

He is the king of the underworld, that's his domain. He doesn't go to the earth.

Except for his lover, his wife, his queen. Persephone, with her ever inconvenient bargain with her mother and the king of the gods. Six months with him. Six months with the earth. Six months in mourning, six months in celebration. Twelve, really. Hades spends the alternate six months to her mother, the earth goddess, mourning for her absence. When the earth is spilling with her love for it, Hades lies alone in their bed, counting down the minutes in his head. When the world grows chill and the wind whistles through the wood of people's houses, Hades holds Persephone in his arms, letting her warm his chilled body. When the earth misses her, he cannot kiss her deeply enough, cannot press her hand with enough meaning, cannot gift things to her with enough love in his intention.

Persephone however, lives like the earth. Without him she is free. With him she is shackled. They fought for so long over how his attentions seemed to wane into torture, and when they finally came to their senses - _that poor girl, that poor boy, oh he's immortal is he? shame. eurydice would have loved to see her husband once more_ \- Persephone was still so chilly with him. And yet, like the flecks of gold in her eyes, there is warmth in them, once more. She loves him still, it's true, but after many a Millenia back and forth across the river, back and forth between the surface and the mines, she has grown weary of the travel.

Hades hears that when she is on the surface she no longer sees her mother. Now, she stays with the poet, she comforts the poet, she drinks and smokes and holds the poet in her strong arms as he sleeps, fitfully. Hades would be jealous if he didn't know that Persephone only does it because she regrets her hand in what happened. Hades would be lying if he said he didn't regret his hand in it too, but it was a double edged sword. There was a noose around both their necks, and Hades is selfish enough to admit he let Orpheus hang.

So he hears the talk of springtime and her beloved poet, how they kissed under a neon sign with nicotine on their breaths and how they both resented the action, how both their hearts longed for someone below the dirt, how they wait together for the train because spring hates to be alone when she leaves and who is a poet if not a spectator of sad occasions? Hades hears the tales and takes them on the chin. He is a king. She is is his queen. They love each other. He trusts her, because they made their vows long ago to each other, meaning every word, and they're both too stubborn, to heart strong to break them.

People seem to think death is a weary old man. Perhaps they are right. In soul, he is exhausted. In form, he is fresh faced as the days he met his wife, and he sometimes wishes he looked how he feels.

~

Persephone sits across from her husband, headphones in, listening to some mortal man croon about his lover with such devotion she can't help but let her eyes flick to Hades. It's not often that music reminds her of him. Orpheus showed her this artist. She likes his stuff. Never quite as good as Orpheus' work from oh so long ago. She's not sure she cares.

Hades is reading a book, some kind of poetry collection. She doesn't know where on earth he got it, but she thinks Charon probably had something to do with it. Charon has enough time on his hands, ferrying back and forth to find a nice collection of poetry for Hades to read.

Persephone remembers the second time she was returned to the earth since their marriage. She had been restored to him for what the mortals now called winter - they called her Lady Spring, you see - and they had been frantic lovers, never near enough to each other, never soft enough, never vicious enough, Persephone remembers the most desperate love making since her creation in the first few weeks of her return. Remembers how they'd kissed on the train ride back in the spring. She hadn't wanted to let him go.

Now they sit in silence across from each other. She's listening to music, he's reading poetry. Neither of them breathe a word. When she gets off the train, no doubt he'll bring out her suitcase, kiss her hand, and bid her farewell, like a gentleman. It's too warm up here for him, she reasons, he likes it cold. He is not a gentleman. She's known him for too long to think him simply that.

Hades has never been anything but kind to her, but in the early days on the train ride to the surface he'd take everything he could get. Now they are older, and he is chillier than ever. He'll kiss her hand and that will be the end of it. Persephone hates it.

~

In a world of gods and men, it's hard to remember there are gods.

You see, when the earth was made, mortals roaming, the gods were these immortal beings with great power and low self esteem, and so roamed the earth below their kingdom. Nowadays, the novelty has worn off, and you wouldn't know you'd met a god unless they told you or unless it was an accident.

Unfortunately for Hades, not only is he the spitting image of his father, but his father was also apparently a fucking looker, too.

Whenever Hades is on the surface, and he is almost never on the surface, he draws attention like a flame to a world of moths. Persephone used to tease him about it, now she barely notices. Back when they were young and just starting out, she had joked that he looked like the mortal's beloved cherubs, but with black hair and dark eyes. The last time Hades saw his mother, near the beginning of his life, she had held a hand to her mouth with tears in her eyes, and whispered something about him looking just like the Mad Titan he had to call his father.

He supposes there must have been a reason she fell for Kronos in the first place, but the idea that he looks just like him? Hades retreated under the ground for many reasons.

Persephone notices the stares, now.

No one knows this is their station. Mortal trains come and go from here, but no one knows the old steam train that chugs into town every six months belongs to a god. No one comes to wave her goodbye, and no one comes to welcome her either, anymore. There used to be celebrations and banquets and dancing. Hades would watch them all from his seat inside the train.

Now, the wind is chill, and his wife is bundled up in her coat, with no one to greet her. Hades huffs, and moves towards her, her suitcases in his hands.

"I always forget how unused to you the mortals are." She says when he's near, and smiles. Her cheeks stretch with the action, and this close, he can see the darker freckles that dot her brown skin.

"I've no idea what you mean." He replies, plunking the suitcases down, either side of her.

Persephone snorts. This is usually the part where he takes her hand, and lifts it to his mouth, a sad kiss goodbye, the way he did the first time she left, when her mother was watching and her lips were too kiss swollen already. He had been trying to be a gentleman then. He has ever since. Now though, Hades feels so drunk on her smile and her freckles and the striped green of her skirt, peeking out from the rose pink of her coat.

Today, he cups her cheek with his hand, watches the surprise in her eyes fade into fondness as she leans into his touch. Her hands come up to rest on his shoulders. She seems to expect it when he kisses her, but she still makes a small squeaking noise, the way she did the first time he kissed her, in her mother's garden.

When they break away, she's blushing, and grinning like nothing else. She shoves him by his shoulder, looking at her shoes. "I'll see you in six months, lover," Persephone says to the concrete, still grinning.

Hades says nothing in return, just reaches out to tuck a curl behind her ear as her turns, and boards the train once more. He can still feel mortal gazes on him as the train pulls from the station, but more than that - he can still see Persephone, standing on the platform, grinning from ear to ear at him.

She looks in love with him for the first time in centuries.

~

“Orpheus!” Persephone cries, crashing through his door with no finesse or grace. He catches one of her suitcases as it falls from her hand, conveniently making coffee in the kitchen, by the front door.

Orpheus looks up at her with a curious look on his face. “Last time you arrived you had coffee.” He says in an accusatory tone.

Persephone waves a dismissive hand. “This is more important than coffee.”

“Mm, I hate to disagree-” Orpheus begins to disagree, as he gets up from the floor, still holding Persephone’s suitcase. Persephone rushes over and puts a finger to his lips.

“My husband is in love with me!” She exclaims, excitedly. Orpheus stares at her with a look of incredulous confusion in his eyes.

He moves away from her finger and says, “Yes? We all knew that?”

“No, no, I mean that he kissed me!” Persephone cries, bouncing over to his bed and toppling over onto it, totally lovestruck. “When he was saying goodbye, he kissed me. And he's never done that before.”

“Kiss you?” Orpheus questions, setting down her suitcase by the door, and closing the door, as well, casting a glance into the hallway, a suspicious look in his eye.

“No!” Persephone whacks his shoulder, when he wanders over. “He's only ever kissed my hand when he says goodbye. He's rather shy around large amounts of mortals. But, today he kissed me.”

“And you think this means he loves you - as if he didn't before?” Orpheus questions, sitting down beside her. Persephone wraps her arms around his shoulders.

“Yes. We’ve had some very difficult times, lately. I thought maybe he stayed because of propriety and nothing else. I didn't want it to be true, but it's what I thought.”

Orpheus looks thoughtful. Then his expression shifts into muted misery. “I'm happy for you,” he murmurs, despite looking utterly tortured.

Ah, yes. She had almost forgotten that Orpheus lives in a state of utter anguish these days. Of course her glowing news of renewed love from her husband who sentenced his wife to hell forever while he remained alive was not going to bring him joy. What could she expect from Orpheus, these days, but melancholy?

Persephone frowns and retardants her arms from around him. They parted very quietly, last time, and here she is, bursting back into his cocoon of sadness with news of hope and love. He probably thought they bonded through their agony. And now their bond is gone, he must suppose. What could she want with him, now that she didn't need anyone to relate to?

“Alright,” Persephone says, and hauls him to his feet, “we’re going for breakfast, and you can catch me up on what's been happening, yeah?”

Orpheus gives her a begrudging look. “You're paying,” he says

“Obviously,” she scoffs.

~

Back down in the Underworld things are running smoothly. Hades goes around to each workplace, checking up on work ethic and general moral. It's not really his job; that's why he has formen for every factory and mine, but his mind is too scattered and stuffed full to focus on anything, so he distracts himself with the goings-on of Hadestown.

It takes him two days to get bored of it, and isn't that just the way?

He's chilled to his bones without Persephone. He forgets each year. He squanders every moment of warmth he has with her, so the moment she's gone away again he returns to the chill he'd known every day of his life before he met her. Hades forgets how much he misses her until she's gone again.

Perhaps that's why he kissed her when he dropped her off in the Aboveworld. Or maybe it's just the simple fact that he's still in love with her, and it's returning full force, right now, just when she's left. Hades doesn't know. How he wishes he knew.

~

“I've had an idea,” Persephone whispers into the humid dark. It's right in the changing of the seasons, when the cool breezes of spring warm up, when the flowers wilt and the pure green of flowers emerge, when the sky is the deepest blue and the water is the clearest it's been. It's about to be summer. Persephone hadn't even realised she missed it until now.

“And what is that?” Orpheus asks, to her left. He's been merrier since when she arrived. He very quickly livened up to her joyful disposition, despite being stuck as her melancholy companion for many years. She supposes he may take to this easier, as it was his own sort of disposition before Eurydice.

Persephone rolls onto her side to face him. He's on his back, staring at the roof. It's too warm to be wearing layers, they're both in their underwear, but it's been so many years, nothing can embarrass either of them anymore. Still, Persephone reasons, he's quite beautiful, even in the scattered shadows and flashing neon of the sign across the street through the open window. How he must miss Eurydice and her touch.

“It's probably a bad idea.” She warns him, quietly.

Orpheus arches an eyebrow and rolls onto his side to face her. His face is cast into shadow, and whatever breeze blowing through the window before, is blocked by his body in front of hers. “Tell me anyway,” he says, softly, “you know I'm not one to shy away from danger.”

“You know my husband?”

“Unfortunately.”

She smacks his shoulder, and he snickers like a schoolboy. When he quiets down she says, “I just miss him when I'm away, you know? And I know he misses me, too. And I want to do something to fix that.”

Orpheus frowns, arching an eyebrow, “And how do you propose we do that? I'm afraid by way of your agreement with your mother you're not allowed back down there until summer’s over.”

Persephone snorts, “We both know Hades has broken that rule many times. He used to collect me early, all the time.”

“Yes, alright, but that's still two or so months away.” He tells her, impatient. “You aren't saying you’ll drop the world into an early winter again, are you? It wasn't very popular the last time you did it.”

“That's not what I'm proposing, Orpheus.” And then she beckons him across the sheet, a mischievous look in her eye. “Come closer. The night listens in, when it's bored enough.”

~

Hades is so relieved to come back to the surface, and if he were younger the very idea would disgust him. But it's her that does it.

This autumn she's summoned is still warm. The leaves are turning red when his train pulls into the station, and she's rugged up in a stylish trenchcoat and infinity scarf. She's got her up in a bun, bar a few strands by her ears and framing her face. She's gorgeous, though that is not news.

Persephone is standing by Orpheus, her unaging companion. He's got her bags, and hands them to Hades when he approaches. Then, uncharacteristically, he smacks Hades on the shoulder and grins, saying, “See you next spring, pal.”

He and Persephone trade a knowing look before Orpheus practically skips off, whistling to himself. Hades gives Persephone a bewildered look, and she just shakes her head, giving him a chaste kiss and patting his cheek.

“Best not to ask, love,” she tells him, and takes a bag making her way quickly to the train.

Hades truly doesn't understand their friendship.

~

Persephone waits a gruelling four months to even bring it up. Hades, bless him, doesn't ask, in that time. They kiss and spend time together and fuck with a newfound energy, fuelled by their renewed love for each other.

He holds her hand when they wander the edge of the Styx. She leans her head onto his shoulder when they read in bed. She laughs when Cerberus trips him in the street, and she shares her illegal contraband from the surface that Orpheus helped her get ahold of, and giggles herself silly when Hades has an interesting trip.

It feels like their early days, again.

They're sitting in his office when she brings it up. She's not supposed to distract him at work, which was why she snuck in with a book to read and pressed the length of her finger to her lips with a grin. Hades let it go.

“There's something I want to discuss with you,” Persephone says, tone all business, even as she still gazes at the pages of her book. She sees Hades look up from his books in her peripheral vision, but doesn't meet his eyes.

“What is it?” He asks her, softly.

She breathes in deeply. She's noticed this same phenomenon before. She never used to take breaths before she met Orpheus. God's don't need to breathe, see. “It's more of a proposition, really. My time at home is nearly up, you see, but that doesn't seem fair to me.”

“Seph,” she keeps her eyes trained on a singular word in her book so she doesn't look up at him when he says her name like that. That wasn't her name when he met her, but it doesn't matter. None of that matters. What matters is if he loves her enough to dare to do this. “You know better than anyone what breaking those rules would mean.”

“I'm not asking you to break any rules,” Persephone informs him, and finally allows herself to look up at him. He looks confused. Another deep breath. She sees him watch the rise and fall of her breath. “I'm asking you to trust me.”

~

Come the springtime.

They sit opposite each other on the train, mute. Persephone is not nervous. Persephone is gazing out the window with a sureness set deep into her skeleton. Hades has never felt this out of control in his entire existence.

Of course he trusts his wife, he'd trust her with anything she wished. He's just afraid of what the pantheon might do if they don't like this. He's afraid of what her mother will think of this stunt.

The train pulls into the station, and he can't carry her bags off for her. She's holding them herself. She steps off the train, and him after her. She doesn't turn to look at him. She just starts walking towards the stairs that will take her to the streets below.

Hades casts a look over his shoulder to the darkened windows of the drivers carriage. He can't see Charon, but Charon, no doubt, can see him. He shrugs at where he supposes Charon is watching from, and follows after her. He can't navigate the surface as well as she can.

Hades follows Persephone to the sidewalk, where she hails a taxi and beckons him to climb in after her, taking his bag from him when he struggles to get in with it still in his hands. She rattles off an address to the taxi driver and then they're off. Hades takes her hand for support.

Their first stop is a fruit stand, but Persephone tells him to stay in the taxi and wait. She's back only minutes later with a paper bag in hand. The second stop is an apartment building located in a backroad, the streets wet from an early morning shower, the neon lights of the clubs opposite their desired building off and cracked.

Persephone doesn't have to buzz in; she has a key, and she lets them inside, the paper bag tucked into her elbow, her suitcase gripped tight in her other hand. Two flights of stairs later, they reach a battered green door, and Persephone lets them inside that, too. The apartment inside is small but homely. It's also empty. Orpheus had agreed with Persephone when they hatched this plan that he'd leave the apartment to them, their first day on the surface. He'll be their companion on the ah back to the Underworld, too, come the end of summer.

He has no time to take it all in, because Persephone’s dropping her suitcase by the window and crossing to the kitchen with the paper bag clutched lazily in her hand, and she squeezes his hand reassuringly before she gets to work.

He watches her slice into the pomegranate with purpose. She produces six perfectly intact seeds for him. He eats them, one for each month he’ll stay on the surface for her. They worked out the details a few months back, but they didn't tell anyone who didn't need to know.

It's too late to stop them, now.

Persephone loved him enough to stay the cold months with him, and he'll love her enough to stay with her on the surface when the weather is sweltering. They'll deal with her mother’s rage and the paperwork later. For now, they're far too in love to be apart ever again.

  
**fin.**

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, I really hope you liked it. If you did, please leave a kudos and a comment telling me all about it. Hmu @nose-coffee on Tumblr for notifications when I post fic and other funny shit. Once again, thanks so much.


End file.
